


kilig

by loupettes



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Jealousy, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:40:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes
Summary: “Oh come off it, it’s not me being jealous.” She raised her eyebrow and he sighed. “Well, how would you feel if you had to watch me flirting with a beautiful woman to get some information out of her?"“I’d feel like I’d need to come up with a better plan, and quick.”Ten x Rose. Fluff/romance
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 10
Kudos: 76





	kilig

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue prompt: "Apparently I can't get a single moment of rest."

“That fella over there _knows._ I know he does. I think he’s our next best option.”

“What, Ben?”

“Is that his name?”

“Ben, yeah. And, what, you think he knows where the safe is?”

“Not only do I think he knows where the safe is, but I think he knows how to get into it, too”

“How’d you work that one out?”

The Doctor tapped his forehead and nodded, a smile creeping across his face. “I’ve been watching everything. He’s the Queen G.”

“The Queen what?”

“The Queen G. Queen Gossiper.”

“You’re having me on! Queen _bee_ , you idiot!”

“What’s a Queen _B_? The Queen Babbler?”

“Oh my god, never mind. So you think he knows everything?”

“Everything and _everyone_. I was talking to him earlier and he knows little pieces of gossip and he knows _enough_ to put those pieces together.” He nodded, folding his arms and turning to lean back against the bar. Rose kept still, facing the opposite way to look at the man in question sitting over at the other end of the bar. 

She chewed her bottom lip, eyes narrowing at the man determinedly. “I can get it out of him.”

“Ha! How’d you suppose you’re gonna do that? Say “ _please_ ”?”

She shrugged. “He’s been flirting with me all evening, asking for my number. Reckon I might do a bit of flirting back.” She clicked her tongue and wiggled her eyebrows at him. He stared at her, his face dropping in what she could only really describe as horror. Or was it _disgust?_ She met his gaze with a scorn and he scoffed, shaking his head incredulously. 

_“What!”_

‘No chance.”

“I’m offended you think my flirting is _that_ bad.”

“It’s not that it’s _bad_ , just that we can come up with something better.” He waved his hand in dismissal, looking back at the - _rather quite handsome_ , thought Rose - bloke at the other end of the bar. She turned her head back to look at him too, watching the crowd closely and taking the occasional sip of his whisky. She turned back to look at the Doctor and he was still watching the man intensely, thinking. He narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think flirting with him’s gonna get him to tell you where the safe is?”

She shrugged. “Dunno, but I’m an expert at this by now - I once managed to get the lad working in Asda to save me a couple of copies of _Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince_ before they were released to everyone else in the queue.” He looked back at her, eyebrow raised. She rolled her eyes. "Give me half an hour. I know what I'm doing, trust me.”

“Well, it's different, you weren’t wearing _this_ -“ he gestured at her dress “ - when you tricked that lad into robbing the imagination of young children everywhere.”

She pinched his arm. “I didn’t _trick_. And not _everywhere_ , only the Asda at Clapham Junction,” she smiled teasingly. “I just said _“please”.”_

He raised his other eyebrow and couldn’t stop himself from looking down at her dress once more. She smirked; she _knew_ that putting this dress on was going to be a success. It was simple - a classic: deep blue, pinched at the waist, a slim fit to the floor, halter neck with a loose dip back, flashing enough skin to alert him to the absence of her bra, but not too much that he’d try to beat her at her own game. Not that he noticed that stuff, but it was worth a shot. And, as it turns out, he _had_ noticed. His hand had levitated more to her back than usual this evening; she’d made sure her skin was as soft as it could be and he’d certainly been running his fingers down her arms more in his seemingly lax command of his control in acknowledgement. 

But looking at him now, she had to stifle a pitiful laugh. They’d been playing this game for a few weeks; she wasn’t about to stop now. “What’s what I’m wearing got to do with it, anyway?”

He groaned impatiently, leaning into her closer. “Because I don’t want to have to watch you flirting with someone _else_ tonightand _especially_ not when you look -” he stopped, and her lips curled at the sound of his voice: low and teasing, enticing goosebumps to surface on her skin and she knew she’d won this round. She _had_ heard it, though, that reverberation of hunger in his voice and she suspected he’d heard it too, as he composed himself at her smirk, taking the ball back with him to his court. “You’re only supposed to flirt with _me_ , remember?”

“Are you _serious?”_ she scoffed.

“ _What_?”

“I don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”

“What have I done now?!”

“I’m here, giving us an out and you don’t want us to take it because you’d be _jealous_?”

“Oh come off it, it’s not me being jealous.” She raised her eyebrow and he sighed. “Well, how would you feel if you had to watch me flirting with a beautiful woman to get some information out of her?”

“I’d feel like I’d need to come up with a better plan, and quick.”

“ _Rose_.” 

Her breath caught in her throat at his voice so heavy with _urgency_. He was making a good job of it by covering it up with his facade, but she could see he was beginning to falter and she was _almost_ tempted to give in, because he was right; it would feel bloody _awful_ watching him flirt with another woman. Her mind took her back to gorgeous lavish red frocks and grand halls of pre-revolutionary France and the pain that clenched at her chest was near unbearable, even more so now that they had become so much closer since then. These days, she felt like they were each others’; she had implicitly promised herself to him and he knew that. And she almost felt like he’d sworn himself to her entirely too. 

But, then again, the man wasn’t doing anything about it and it was starting to piss her off. “It’ll be fine. Look, I promise _you’re_ the man I’m going home with tonight, alright?”

He smirked. “That’s all that matters.”

 _Fuck_ , this needed to stop. The quiet groan in his voice that was not made in jest elicited a whimper to form in her throat that was _luckily_ hushed by the sounds of the bar. She was endlessly thankful to herself for putting on her full coverage foundation tonight; without it, she was certain her cheeks would give the game away and render her powerless to keep up the act. Knowing that she still maintained a calm composure, she dared herself to kiss him on the cheek as she picked herself up from the bar, but she was drained of her pretence when she saw his eyes close in response.

***

He was leaning against the wall, paying close attention to those coming in and those leaving the bar, when she finally caught up to him a little less than an hour later. She’d been noticing him scanning the room before subtly slipping behind a locked door, or absorbing himself in conversation with anyone who might have anything to offer and she'd attempted to discover the location of the safe in conversation, and she’d chuckled to find him, more than once, hovering around the nibbles tables. When he spotted her edging closer, he uncrossed his arms and pulled himself away from the wall. “Well?”

She looked at him in honest trepidation, hesitating. “He wants to take me for drinks somewhere else, just me and him.”

He rolled his eyes. “Give it a rest, Ben.”

“Oi! That’s more of an insult to _me_ than him!”

He tugged at his ear and scrunched his face. “No, you’re right. Whatever, look, ok. If you think you’ll be able to get it out of him then go on.”

“I think I’m in with a fair chance.”

He raised an eyebrow as if about to say something, but sighed instead. She didn’t think he’d be so openly affected by her attempts at making him jealous; part of her wanted to continue the match, see whether it really _would_ culminate in bloody advancement between them, but they’d come so far in terms of their relationship that she almost felt like she _was_ cheating on him. _Which was mad!_ She shook her head and it shivered throughout her body. Every time she thought that perhaps this was a game the two of them were playing, she'd remember who she was dealing with. This was the _Doctor;_ the man who had told her she was beautiful "for a human"; the man who had happily invited along Lynda-with-an-Y like Rose was just another companion; the man who'd told her they weren't what she thought they were because she's going to wither and die and all that; the man that fancied himself with a French aristocrat with barely any regard for Rose. He _definitely_ didn’t see her that way - he didn’t want to _be_ with her. He’d made that abundantly clear in the past; they were off-limits, never going to happen.

But that wasn’t what she was getting from him _recently._ Recently, he was almost acting like they already _were_ in a relationship; often joking, or at least, not outrightly _denying_ , that they were a married couple when they met new people; giving her little shoulder massages now and then that were _much_ more intimate than they needed to be; she’d even feel him kiss the top of her head whenever she'd curl into him on the sofa as they watched a film. It always felt like it was _going_ somewhere, but then it never did. And so, for the second time that evening, she was faced with a decision that she made largely based on her frustration at the impasse of their dalliance. 

“Right, well then I’ll see you later,” she renounced. 

As she turned to head for the door, his hand latched onto hers and she was pulled back around. Her breath caught once more and she expected to meet his gaze, but his eyes were instead firmly fixated on their hands, seemingly unaware of how they’d got there. She swallowed, her gaze lowered to their hands too. She could already feel the heat rising in her body, she thought any minute now he’d be able to feel the sweat in her palms. His thumb softly ran across the back of her hand and she heard him breathe out steadily. She swallowed, permitting herself an extra second to gather herself.

“Back before 10, alright?” he joked, as though he _hadn’t_ just completely wilted her. It was starting to _ache_ ; she never knew where she stood and she was _tired_. She pulled her hand away, and he must have seen that ache transcribe itself in her face, because for the briefest of moments he looked sorry.

She nodded, the best she could give him at the moment, before putting all her might into pushing one foot in front of the other with strides strong enough to keep her upright, stopping her from crumbling. 

_“Rose.”_

He grabbed onto her hand once more and she’d have yanked it away if she weren’t so in love with him, so needing of his touch at all times. _I can’t have a single moment of_ rest, she thought to herself and it angered her that he did this so frequently. Her hand still in his, she wanted to scream; she trusted him with everything in her life except her heart, and it was breaking because of him. But he had hold of her hand, it was much less difficult to walk away and protect herself. 

The _tenderness_ of his touch as he guided her lips to his was the most overwhelming part of it all. She felt herself stun under the electricity of that touch, unable to respond to his lips as she focused primarily on keeping herself whole. But he’d retreated by the time her mind had finally caught up and she found herself fighting to breathe; he was so _close_ to her, their noses touching as he leant his forehead against hers, her hands gripping his wrists as he cupped her face that she must only attribute this tantalising to him being alien, because there was _nothing_ about this that was within human capacity to bear. 

Was he going to say something? Should she wait? Should _she_ say something? Maybe he was waiting for her to speak, considering _he’d_ just kissed _her_. But she couldn’t find any words she wanted to speak when the only thing she wanted to do with her lips was kiss him once more. 

Which made her so wonderfully relieved when she didn't have to worry about any of that, as he tilted her chin once more ever so gently to kiss her again. The fact that it was so deliberate and gentle gave her the time to savour it, to register all the things he was doing and all the ways she was reacting. All of her senses had given in besides taste which was heightening beyond more than she could possibly cope with and she felt dizzy with it, pulling herself back to steady herself and he pulled back promptly. 

“I’m sorry,” he flustered, taking her withdrawal as reluctance and starting his own extraction from their embrace. 

“No!” she interjected, putting her hands on either side of his face to draw him back to her, to _them_. “That’s not what - it wasn’t- ”

He was hesitant, clearly mortified as he nervously tried to resist her attempts to hold on to him, so she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him to her close.

“I wasn't pulling back you dope," she chuckled breathlessly. "I honestly just couldn’t take it.”

She was always a nervous laugher; she knew it could often be one of her biggest defects. Perhaps it was why he stayed: because he liked her laugh and he made her nervous. So here she was, a shudder rippling from her heart, spreading into every extremity and relieving itself in her chuckle. And he _adored_ it. 

“Now you know how _I_ felt.”

She held onto him tighter briefly before pulling back, so grateful to see he was smiling back at her. She’d never seen him look so… young, sporting a sheepish grin. He always seemed almost daunting to her sometimes; although he was her best mate and she could talk to him about anything, she had to admit she felt a bit in over her head when she thought about the fact that he was a _Time Lord_ , the last of an almighty race that dominated the worlds and set the laws of time. But now, if she looked closely, she might just be able to see a blush. She so often forgot that he wasn't human and right now she was being shown that he was, in fact, a lot more human than she made him out to be in her mind.

“I was worried I might _actually_ have to marry him before you stepped in.”

“So was I.”

She closed her eyes as she fought against that familiar _need_ she had for him, the one so tightly clutching on to her every bone that is was unbearable at times. He must have seen it in her because she was soon being gently tugged into his hold; her palms lying flat on his chest as his arms encircled her.

“And you said this wouldn’t work.”

He scoffed. “I knew that’s what you were doing!” She loved how she could hear his chuckle rumble below her ear, close to his hearts. “This was you all along, wasn’t it? You and this dress.”

“I accredit my seduction entirely to myself.”

"You're _terrible_ at seduction when you _retreat_ from victory."

"So then you admit it, that I won?"

He laughed. "Oh, no. I _definitely_ won."


End file.
